


Salmonberries

by Moonlark



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Feels, Fluff, Light Angst, Vacation, and very cute, but mainly fluff, very gay, very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7433552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlark/pseuds/Moonlark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michelle's staring. She knows this, and she isn't going to try to hide it. No matter how much Haley says she hates the rain, she's still so beautiful like this: standing in the knee-high grass, laughing and swearing at the dripping trees and the overcast sky and Michelle still dry on the porch, shivering, barefoot and delighted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salmonberries

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure how this started, but it's fluff, and to me, that's enough. I'm all about those Romeo and Juliet type cross-rivalry ships. Many thanks to bpayne4511 for listening to me ramble about this and being supportive of rampant rare pairing. If anyone wants to join us in cinnamon roll heaven part 2, feel free.
> 
> This is set sometime in March or April, before the start of the 2016 NWSL season.
> 
> I now set sail in the tiny two-person Koptos canoe.

_Salmonberries (rubus spectabilis) are fruiting brambles in the rose family, akin to raspberries and blackberries. They are native to the Pacific northwest, ranging from northern California to the southern half of Alaska. The fruits are composed of multiple drupelets, and when ripe range in coloration from bright red to gold. They are very sweet, and best prepared in jams and pies or as an accompaniment to savory dishes. Salmonberry flowers are sometimes grown decoratively, but the berries themselves are not easily cultivated, preferring to grow in thickets near the banks of mountain streams. If one wishes to pick salmonberries, one must be willing to venture into the misty coastal forests and brave brambles, steep hillsides, and a possible drenching to find the fruit._

***

Michelle wakes early the next morning to the sound of rain on a wooden roof and the soft brush of familiar breath on the back of her neck. She's warm all over, tucked beneath the heavy blankets and cuddled up against a wonderful human furnace. One of Haley's arms is wrapped tightly around her shoulders, holding her close and comfortable. She's resting her head on Haley's chest, a gentle pillow through which she can, with every breath, hear the solid, steady beat of her girlfriend's heart.

The room is light when she opens her eyes, a cool, clear light that's been filtered through clouds and a forest canopy and an early morning mist before reaching its destination. She revels in it for a moment, matching her breathing to the rise and fall of Haley's chest beneath her head, letting herself float on the feeling of pure contentment. There's something so calm about it, so close and gentle and perfect, that she lies there for a long time, ignoring the faint grumbling of her stomach in favor of holding the moment, of living there, of simply being.

Eventually, she slides her way out of Haley's arms, drags on a pair of sweats and the softest t-shirt she owns, puts her hair up in a lazy floppy bun, and pads into the kitchen. The window shades are open, and she can see the steady drip... drip... drip... falling from the spread needles of the tall western hemlocks around the cabin. Waterlogged Spanish moss dangles from the lower branches, and the canes of soaked salmonberry bushes bend toward the ground, bowing under their collection of shivering droplets. On those bushes, young leaves have begun to unfurl, and she thinks she can almost see early buds amidst that collage of bright green grace.

The woods here will be blooming soon.

She opens the door set in the kitchen's back wall and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as the cool air hits her bare arms. The smell of rain is heavy on the light breeze, mixing with the earthy scent of wet loam and a trace of red cedar. From just down the small bank across the yard comes the chattering laughter of the clear, brisk mountain river and the sweet warble of a thrush in reply. Somewhere in the alder trees across the water, a woodpecker is drilling. The early morning fog is ever so slowly beginning to lift, and even the rain has halted, withdrawing with a promise to return later in the day.

Her stomach rumbles again, reminding her of her purpose for rising: breakfast. There's not too much in the fridge--they're only here one more night--but there's everything that she needs. She takes out the cabin's frying pan, a carton of eggs, and a pack of bacon, starts a fire in the wood stove, and gets to work.

She's just extinguished the fire and put the food on a pair of plates when she feels Haley come up behind her and drape herself over her. The other woman wraps her arms around Michelle, and she leans back into it, smiling to herself as her girlfriend buries her face in the back of her neck once more.

“Smells really good,” Haley mumbles.

“What, me or the food?” Michelle quips, and she can feel Haley's answering grin against her skin.

“Why not both?”

They eat sitting crosslegged on the covered back porch, only the very edge of the wooden roof between them and the steady, tender drizzle that has just started up again. With every bite, Michelle's elbow hits Haley in the side, but she makes no effort to move away. Instead, she scoots closer, so they're pressed together from hip to shoulder--no space in between for the brisk morning air to chill them.

When the plates are empty, Michelle stands up to take them inside. Haley rises halfway too, then hesitates and sits back down at a wave of Michelle's hand. No need.

She sets the plates in the sink and then heads back out to the porch, stopping just before opening the door. Haley is still sitting right there, at the edge of the porch, and Michelle probably shouldn't, but it's a brilliant idea, what she just thought of.

She snickers to herself, and then opens the screen door as quietly as she can and sneaks up behind Haley.

It takes one almighty shove to send Haley tumbling down into the wet, wild grass of the yard. Michelle can't help but crack up as Haley splutters in mock anger, trying to wipe some of the mud off her arms and only succeeding in smearing it around.

“What the--you little fuck! Fuck you, Meesh!” Haley yells accusingly, climbing to her feet, clothes streaked with mud, laughing in between the swearing. Beads of water are running down her bare shoulders, which is... honestly, very distracting. 

Michelle's staring. She knows this, and she isn't going to try to hide it. No matter how much Haley says she hates the rain, she's still so beautiful like this: standing in the knee-high grass, laughing and swearing at the dripping trees and the overcast sky and Michelle still dry on the porch, shivering, barefoot and delighted.

Too late she realizes that Haley's moving, splashing toward the porch with mischief plain on her face. She scrambles backward, trying to stand and reach for the door at the same time, but Haley wraps a cold hand around her ankle and pulls, dragging her toward the edge of the porch and the dripping rain. She shrieks, kicking, pulling away and making another break for the cabin, but again Haley grabs on, holding her tightly with muddy arms, slowly but steadily hauling her closer to the rain. 

“Get off me, get off!” she tries to say, but she's laughing so hard she can barely get the words out. 

“What was that?” Haley growls, a mischievous note in her voice. “Sorry, I didn't hear you. Did you say hurry up?”

“No, come on, stop it!” Michelle gasps, putting up one last fight, digging her feet in as hard as she can, so that Haley has to pull with all her might just to keep them moving backwards. Then she suddenly goes limp, stops resisting, and all the force Haley was using sends them both tumbling off the porch into a dirty puddle that's half grass, half water, half crazy laughter and the joy of the morning.

They end up lying there, side by side, still laughing and ignoring the steady drops of rain landing on their faces. It's not the most comfortable of places to lie down, but neither of them care very much. Their stomachs hurt from laughing, they are completely filthy, and they can feel the mud squelching between their toes. In other words, it's a beautiful day. 

“Ah, these clothes are gonna be ruined,” Haley says mournfully, frowning down at her shirt. 

“Worth it,” Michelle grins, and squirms away from Haley's half-hearted attempt to put her in a headlock. “So worth it.” 

Still, she's the first one to stand, and then offer Haley a hand (half expecting to be dragged back down again). Haley seems to have had enough of their wrestling, though, simply standing and throwing an arm across Michelle's shoulders as they troop back inside. The thought of their muddy footprints on the wood floor or the carpets of the cabin is too cringeworthy to entertain, so they make an attempt to wipe off their feet while still on the kitchen's linoleum. They leave their filthy clothes in a pile there as well, then head for the shower together. Michelle turns the water on as hot as she can stand, knowing that Haley likes it almost burning, and then hums contentedly as Haley starts gently washing the mud and grass out of her hair. When she's done, Michelle reaches up and returns the favor, carefully making sure no dirt is left behind. They're nose to nose, almost, and when the lather of the shampoo is gone, Michelle can't help but use her grip to haul Haley in for a kiss.

It's beautiful, and tender, and fierce, months of pent up longing that have barely had any time to be sated. And when Haley's hands start wandering, well, Michelle certainly doesn't complain. 

***

Afterwards, they spend an hour or two lying side by side on the rustic bed, taking turns reading aloud to each other and just generally being lazy. It's almost noon, but it's not like they're on a schedule. They can pass the book they're reading back and forth as long as they want, and not do anything else except eat and sleep and and be together. 

But they can also do other things.

“So,” Michelle says when they finally get up to find something to eat as lunch, “I was kind of thinking... and maybe had a little something planned for today?”

“Oh?” Haley smirks, wiggling her eyebrows and leaning against the counter where Michelle's turning carrots into carrot sticks. “What kind of... something?” She even throws in a wink for good measure.

“Oh my god,” Michelle laughs, “you are so ridiculous. And dirty-minded.” She whacks Haley with a carrot. 

Haley pretends to pout. “Well, you weren't complaining last night. Or this morning in the shower.” She breaks into a grin on the last phrase, and something in Michelle's chest decides to flip over. Before she knows it, she's smiling back.

“You see? You love it!” Haley proclaims. 

Michelle scoffs. “Yeah, yeah, just keep telling yourself that.” She follows it up with a gentle hipcheck and a fond look to make sure there's no sting in her words, then turns back to the carrots.

Haley waits a few seconds, then slides closer and presses a swift kiss against Michelle's cheek, running a hand through her still-damp hair. “So what were you thinking of?” 

“Well, um... did you see the trail down by the river?” 

“That little mud puddle? Yeah.”

“Well, I was maybe feeling like going on a little hike?”

“Hmmm,” Haley says, seeming deep in thought. “That could be nice. Besides, that way we're not completely lazing around all day. We can get in a little exercise, not be completely shamed when we go back to our teams. It's also one way to work up an appetite.” She hesitates, then grins. “Or an... _appetite_ …”

Michelle groans and hits her with a carrot again. “Stop it, come on, that was so bad it's gonna make these carrots rot.” 

Haley shrugs. “Well, we already established that you love it, so…” 

Michelle aims for Haley's face this time, but Haley just grabs the carrot and bites it in half, chewing slowly and grinning like the Cheshire cat despite the fact that said carrot was only half peeled. 

“You are insufferable,” Michelle grumbles, pouting overdramatically as she turns back to the cutting board, pulls another carrot from the bag, and peels it in quick, efficient motions. “Was that a yes?” 

Haley swallows the mouthful of carrot and nods. “Yeah, I'll go. Hiking. With you.” 

The way she says it makes it clear that the 'with you' is the important part. Michelle ducks her head awkwardly to avoid the sudden rush of feelings. “Uh, great. Okay. Thanks. Can you make a couple sandwiches?” 

“You're stretching the limit of my culinary ability,” Haley jokes, but she reaches for the loaf of paleo bread and pulls out several slices. Michelle smiles back and hands her a cutting board, then turns around to finish cutting up the carrots.

***

The trail, it turns out, only follows the riverbank for a few hundred yards before cutting away and heading uphill. It's not even as muddy as it had looked at first, which is surprising, since it's been raining all day. It zig-zags hard, sharp switchbacks working their way up through the hardy hemlocks and fiddlehead ferns that cling to what is quickly becoming a mountainside. It's not a big mountain by any means--like most other Coastal Range mountains, it's small enough to be comfortably hiked. Like plenty of other Coastal Range mountains, it also rises to a sharp and sudden summit ridge, sloping on one side and plummeting abruptly away on the other--the side toward the sea. 

Haley and Michelle reach the top around mid afternoon, just as the sun decides to peak through briefly and give some yellow, watery light to the world below. It's a bit of a scramble to the top, over those final few yards, and once they're up there, the reason for that becomes clear. It's a small, rocky summit about the size of a small bedroom, with a sheer, craggy drop on one side and the forest on the other.

Michelle leans over and carefully peers over the edge. The forest swallows up the base of the cliff some estimated five hundred feet below. She can't see the ground, only the pointed tops of the various evergreens sticking up like spears. 

Unbidden, her mind conjures up an image of what would happen if she were to fall, and she swallows and draws back carefully, closing her eyes once she's turned away. 

“That's a long way down,” Haley says, sounding vaguely shocked. 

Michelle huffs, keeping her eyes closed. “Congrats on the understatement.” 

They decide not to sit right on the edge, choosing instead a bench-like boulder set several feet back from the precipice. It's got two small dents in it, just in the right places to be seats--as if people had been coming here in couples for centuries before them, making their way through the rainy forest below and scrambling up that rock flow just to sit here contentedly with the person they loved. 

Michelle sets the pack down between her legs and pulls out the jerky, tearing the bag open and plucking out a piece before offering it to Haley. They chew in companionable silence, shoulder to shoulder, eyes half closed in the watery grey light of the afternoon. Then comes the carrot sticks, the trail mix, the sandwiches, and then finally the soft contentment as they settle against the sloping back of the boulder and enjoy the view.

It starts to rain again, a soft cool drizzle that speckles their shirts and slicks their hair down. Neither of them make an effort to move. They've both spent enough time in the northwest that they can try to simply ignore it. They came up here for the mountaintop, and the rain is simply a piece of that. 

“Much better than the Australian humidity,” Haley says, sliding over and leaning against her. Michelle nods.

“Mmmm, definitely. I'll take a cold rain over a constant sauna any day.” 

“Well, I'm not entirely sure about that. But I was mainly thinking that I had to go through the Australian humidity without you.” Haley grins as she says this, reaching out to ruffle Michelle's hair.

It's cheesy, it is, but Michelle still has to duck her head and fight a blush. She looks away, out over the rainy forest below, at the cold, coiling river and the low grey fog twenty or thirty miles west that marks the edge of the Pacific ocean.

“And what show did you steal that from?” she says. 

Haley laughs. “Fuck you, I came up with that on my own.” Then her voice softens, becoming both more serious and doubly gentle. “I really did mean it, though. I've missed you.” 

This time Michelle does blush, turning and hiding her face against Haley's neck, smiling where she can't be seen, only felt. “I love you,” she murmurs to the soft skin there. 

“Love you too, Meesh,” Haley whispers back, wrapping her arms around Michelle and kissing the top of her head. “So, so much.” 

The rain starts to fall harder, and the moment fades. A frigid wind gusts in from the coast, sweeping along the bare rocks of the mountaintop. The chill creeps in and settles underneath their skin, matching them to the dripping trees and the low western fog and the dreary grey sky overhead. 

Haley shivers. “Jesus, it's cold up here.” 

Michelle lifts her head. “Well, I know a way to warm us up,” she smirks, pressing her lips against the skin beneath Haley's ear. 

Haley shivers again, for a completely different reason. Then she shifts so she's turned toward Michelle, looking her right in the eye. “Now who's dirty-minded?”

The way she says it is low, amused and interested, and there's a deep spark in her eye that makes Michelle reach up and tangle her hands in Haley's hair, closing the little distance left between them. There's a definite warmth in the kiss, a heat that wraps around them and makes them impervious to the rain. There's no urgency, though--they've had plenty of time for that already--and the common sense that maybe a mountaintop isn't the best place for taking clothes off is talking a little too loudly to be forgotten. 

Eventually they draw apart, leaning against each other, ignoring the misty rain drifting down around them. A drop of water rolls down Michelle's nose. She smiles.

“I wish we could just stay like this,” she says.

Haley laughs. “What, making out on a rainy mountaintop?”

“Yeah. Wait, no. Wait--I don't know.” Michelle shrugs. “It's just... out here, we don't have to worry about... things.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Like, for once we're not stuck in different cities. And we're not busy in the middle of a season. And we don't have to worry about, like, coming out or anything, or keeping it a secret, or what would happen if people found out, or... or anything really. We don't have to hide. We can just be.” 

Haley nods. “It’s uncomplicated.” 

“Exactly,” Michelle says, then hesitates. She’s waited long enough that she’s not exactly sure how to say this next bit. “I… I came out to my parents before flying out here.” 

“How’d it go?”

Michelle shrugs again, but she can feel the corner of her mouth turn up a bit, a hint of a smile that she can't quite hide. “They seem okay with it. A bit surprised to learn that their daughter is a sexuality they haven't even heard of before. But they don't seem like they're gonna disown me or anything.” She pauses, then laughs. “Honestly, the hardest part, once I got it out, was explaining to them what pan means. But they're trying.”

“That's good,” Haley grins, reaching over to wrap Michelle up in a tight hug. She's out to her own family--has been since she was a teenager--and her teammates on the Reign as well. But she understands how hard it is. She understands how much of a relief it is to put yourself out there, open and vulnerable, and find love rather than hate. She gets how important this was to Michelle.

She's never been anything but understanding and supportive.

“Yeah,” Michelle says, trying to convey all the gratitude she can't put in sentences through that one word. She shifts against Haley's side, sliding even closer, tucking herself against her girlfriend from shoulder to hip. Haley hums contentedly and wraps an arm around her, looking back at Michelle with the softest look on her face.

It makes the whole world seem bright. 

Off to the west, a flash of lightning splits the rain, and Michelle jumps. Thunder follows a few seconds later, low and petulant in the not so distant sky.

“Maybe we should get down from here,” Haley says. 

“Smart idea,” Michelle responds, gathering her pack and standing to inch over to the steep scramble that leads back to the trail. She turns around and starts down, hand over hand, testing each foothold with care. It's only about fifteen feet total, but she doesn't want to spend any of those feet falling. 

She drops the final few feet down onto the trail, then turns to wait for Haley, who's about halfway down the scramble herself. Once they're both on the solid earth, they stand for a moment, locking the afternoon in their memories for comfort during other, more distant times. 

“We're gonna have to shower again,” Haley says as they start down the trail, examining the streaks of mud that had stuck to their skin during the scramble down.

Michelle shrugs, trying not to smile. “Better do it together,” she says. “Save some water.”

“Make up for lost time?” Haley asks, raising her eyebrows, but she picks up her pace. 

Michelle can't help but laugh at that, even as she starts walking faster too. 

*** 

That night, Michelle dreams. 

She falls asleep soon after they get in bed, draping herself on top of Haley and holding on tight as her girlfriend rolls over onto her side. She barely manages to keep her eyes open while Haley reaches over to turn off the light, and is slipping away even as Haley presses a tender kiss to her forehead. 

Even in half-sleep, she still smiles. 

The dream she sinks into is more like a memory--flying down the Sunset Highway in Haley’s car, toying with the music from the passenger seat, belting out Bohemian Rhapsody in a careless, carefree duet that tangles with their wind-whipped hair and spills out the open windows to tumble along the pavement behind.

_ “Mamaaa! Just killed a maaaan!”  _

Haley's not exactly tone deaf, but she certainly can't carry a tune, and Michelle's not much better. It's open air and an open road, though. They're free from more than just responsibilities and pressures.

_ “Put a gun against his heaaad, pulled my trigger, now he's deaaad!”  _

The high afternoon sun is hanging overhead. The tall trees that border the highway cast no shadow at all, stirring slightly side to side in a gentle swaying dance. It is unusually clear and warm for early Oregon spring, but it had been raining earlier in the day and is supposed to rain again that night.

_ “Mamaaa! Life had juuust beguuun, but now I've gone and thrown it aaaaall awaaaay!”  _

A swift sidewind whirls a thin cloud of dust specks through the open car, and the singing dissolves into coughing and cursing and a frantic scramble to shut the windows. 

Outside the car, the pines and hemlocks give way to a wheatfield. 

They sit quietly for several minutes, listening to Freddie Mercury sing about how he's just a poor boy from a poor family. Michelle's staring out the window again, watching a farm go by. This farm quickly changes into forest again, old towering hemlocks standing mighty and proud beside the road that was cut through them.

For a moment, she thinks she sees something moving among the tall trees. An elk, maybe? Or possibly a bear, that would be exciting. But it's gone too fast for her to get a good look at it. 

Bohemian Rhapsody ends, and the radio station switches to a Kaiser commercial that Michelle just can't stand. She changes the station, flipping through channels more for something to do than to find a specific thing. Eventually she settles on a Latin station that's playing some upbeat salsa.

“Good driving music?” Haley says, grinning. 

Michelle groans. “Oh my god, that was one time, can you not let it go?”

“No, I cannot let it go. It's too great to let go. Hilarious.” 

“It is not. Was not.”

“Was too, and still is. Nerd.” Haley says it like a term of endearment. 

“Dork,” Michelle replies, just as fondly. She turns to look back out the window just in time to see a blue sign signalling that a rest stop is approaching. “Hey, rest stop,” she says, and Haley quickly changes lanes, slows, and turns in.

“Your turn to drive now,” she says. 

Michelle snorts. “We haven't been driving for very long. Are you already tired?” 

“No, you've just been hogging the coffee, and now it's my turn to hog it.” 

“All right,” Michelle concedes, “that's only fair.” 

They use the bathroom at the rest stop, then walk around a little bit. There's a sign talking about how the area was charred and blackened and laid barren by the Tillamook burn, and a small stand selling locally grown fruit. They buy some, and eat it perched on a log at the edge of the forest. 

For a little while, they stay there, enjoying the air and the sun, just the right warmth on a day where it would be too cold in the shade. Haley begins to nod off, leaning against Michelle, and Michelle is almost overcome by a great fondness inside her chest that seems to be filling her up so much that there's barely room to breathe. 

She lets them sit there for a few more moments, then kisses Haley's shoulder. 

“Come on,” she says, “we've got a cabin waiting.”

*** 

When Michelle wakes up the next morning, it takes her a few minutes to remember where she is. The bed is too wide around her, blankets tangled in her legs, and Haley isn't there.

Haley isn't there.

Her heart jumps to her throat for a second before she reaches over and finds a Haley-shaped dip in the blankets right next to her. Relief floods through her when she realizes it's still warm.

From the kitchen, there comes the sound of hushed swearing and the homey scent of woodsmoke from the stove. 

Well. Haley's in the kitchen. That's a new one. It probably won't end nicely, but props to her for trying. 

She gets out of bed and stretches, then walks over to the windows to take in some morning light. As she opens the curtains, a tiny dot of color catches her eye. A flash of purple amidst the forest's brilliant, wet green--tender, timid, pale and new--the first hint of a flower on the salmonberry bushes.

She allows herself a brief moment, a gentle smile, and then heads to the kitchen.

Haley doesn't hear her come in. She's too busy focusing on the old waffle iron that came with the cabin, trying to unstick a waffle from one of the griddles. There's a plate on the counter next to the stove, with two fluffy waffles on it already. They look surprisingly good.

“I thought you said you couldn't cook,” Michelle says as she leans against the cabinets. 

Haley shrugs, still focused on the iron. “Never got the chance to cook these for you. Waffles are about the only thing I'm good at. And even then, not always.” She finally manages to pry the waffle off the iron, and makes a face at its blackened bottom. “Case in point.” 

“Well, they smell really nice. Making me hungry,” Michelle smiles. “Anything you want me to do?” 

“How about the dishes?” 

The waffles are very nice with lemon juice, chocolate chips, and powdered sugar. Michelle practically has a mouth orgasm with the first bite. When she finally manages to stop moaning and swallow, she sees that Haley's surreptitiously watching her and smiling, almost glowing, at the enthusiastic endorsement of her waffles. 

After the meal is done and the dishes cleaned, they migrate to the couch that takes up an entire wall of the cozy living room. The fireplace across from it is cold, with ash dusting around the edges and charred bits of wood in the hearth. They'd used it the first night, but since then had found that the wood stove--and each other's body heat--made the small cabin quite warm enough already.

They sit side by side in silence once again, but this time the silence isn't comfortable. It's not a lazy silence of two people curled up together with nothing better to do. Rather, it's a tense, nervous silence, the silence of avoidance, of clamping one's lips shut and turning away from the elephant in the room.

“We have to be out of here by noon,” Haley says, eventually, reluctantly. 

“Let's not talk about that right now,” Michelle replies, more than a little pleading. She tries to keep her voice steady, but she can't fully hide all the undercurrents cutting through--longing, hesitation, desperation, an unwillingness to leave and return to the tense, secret moments and late night calls that had been all they'd been able to snatch last season.

“We could…” Haley hesitates, then presses on. “We could always just go. Get in the car. Drive off to somewhere else. Not look back. There are plenty of places where no one would recognize us--”

But Michelle's already shaking her head. “You know we can't do that,” she says, as gently as she can. “We don't really want to do that,” and the look on Haley's face is more relief than anything else. 

“Yeah,” she says, “that would be kind of a dick move, just straight up and leaving our teams and teammates without so much as a parting glance.”

“And even if we did tell them,” Michelle adds, laughing a little (it's a bit strained, but it's still a laugh), “what would we say? Oh, sorry, I went and fell in love with our rival's keeper, and we're going gallivanting off into the wilderness together, so you're gonna have to kiss our sweet little baby-soft asses a smacking goodbye?” 

Haley's laugh is genuine, her nose scrunching up in the cutest way. Michelle really wants to kiss it. “Our sweet little baby-soft asses--oh my god, Meesh, where did you get that from?” 

“You know Em?” Strike that, she just wants to kiss Haley in general. 

“Menges?” Haley asks. 

Michelle nods. “You can thank her for that turn of phrase.” 

“I'll be sure to.” 

Okay, fuck it, she's going for it. “And if you choose to, you could thank me for this,” she says, pitching her voice lower, and she turns to kiss Haley. 

At some point, she moves from the couch to a seat on Haley's lap. It really improves the angle of the kiss. Not that the kiss before had been bad--far from it. It just changed the kiss from good to oh my god, really fucking good. So good that, when it's combined with the way one of Haley's hands has come up to bracket her ribcage while the other is firmly gripping her thigh, it's enough to have her shifting her hips slightly, involuntarily. 

God, Haley knows her too well.

It works the other way around, though, too. When they break for air, she leans down a little to get her mouth on the hollow above Haley's collarbone and delight in the small breathy gasp that follows.

“So we're gonna do 10am sex on a couch in a cabin we don't own instead of packing like we should be because we have to be out of here by noon?” Haley says, eyes closed. She's grinning. 

“Long drive ahead of us,” Michelle replies, voice muffled by the side of Haley's neck. “We don't have much to pack, and we've pretty much defiled all the other three rooms in this cabin already.” She sucks lightly on the soft skin, scrapes her teeth over it to feel Haley shiver. “Besides, two hours is plenty of time.”

“The drive's not that long. And we do have to clean up whatever we defile.” Haley's almost laughing as she says this. 

Michelle pulls back to look Haley square in the eye. “Do you want to do this?” she asks, as gently as she can.

Haley's grin gets even wider. “Oh, hell yeah. That wasn't a no at all. Fuck logistics, let's fuck.” 

“We are pros at avoidance,” Michelle laughs, and leans in.

***

They end up being entirely packed by 11:30. This is partly because they didn't bring much stuff and partly because they've had years of experience when it comes to packing well and fast. 

The wood supply for the stove has been restocked, the sheets laundered, the dishes washed, dried, and put away. There's no food left in the fridge. The clean towels have been folded and hung in the bathroom. The windows have been shut and the blinds drawn, as if the cabin’s closing its eyes in preparation for a nap. The back door is locked and the deadbolt thrown, and as they stand in the small living room, the little cabin seems to be waiting for them to take their leave. 

“We should get going,” Haley says eventually. 

“Yeah…” Michelle responds, but she doesn't move. “Just a moment.” 

“Alright. Here's the key.” Haley pauses in the door. “I'll be waiting in the car.”

Michelle stands there until she hears the beep of the car unlocking, then slowly makes her way through the cabin one last time. There's not much to see; just the bedroom’s rustic queen draped in clean, light blue sheets, the bathroom’s stainless white tiles, the kitchen’s wood stove and hand-carved drawers, the living room’s futon couch and overstuffed armchairs and little table squeezed up against the wall. The wood-paneled walls stand by as she looks around, making sure they aren’t leaving anything behind. She plucks a hairtie from the windowsill and feels almost silly; she had wistfully imagined staying here with Haley forever, or a while at least, but now that they're all packed, it's obvious that the cabin wouldn't have let them. It's a distant place, a space for the transient, where time slows while the world trickles on far away--a wanderer’s respite--but it is no place to stay. 

She locks the front door behind her, then walks slowly toward the car. Halfway across the overgrown, puddle-strewn yard, she stops, remembering something--a purple bud laced with the morning's dew--a moment of peace, calm--quiet--unobserved. The thicket of salmonberries is still at the edge of the clearing, rising up beneath the hemlocks and cedars, comfortably unrestricted by any boundaries or expectations. Michelle sighs for a second, slightly bittersweet, then turns and looks, searching for that purple flash amid the deep wet green that dominates this entire coastal world. 

She finds it. 

And then another… 

And another. 

Michelle smiles, and walks to the car. She sits down in the passenger seat and leans across the armrest to pull Haley in for a kiss. She rests her head against the other woman's shoulder afterwards, taking a final precious moment here, in the woods, where no one is watching. 

She points out the windshield.

“Look,” she says, “the salmonberries are blooming.”

**Author's Note:**

> Always remember to love thy keeper.
> 
> Also. Michelle. Stop trying to bitchslap your girlfriend with carrots. Root vegetables aren't good for that kind of thing. If you must, use a leafy green (I recommend chard).


End file.
